by Bella Andre
She couldn’t get over how different Ryan was from her ex-husband. If Anthony ever did anything nice for anyone, he broadcast it from the rooftops. Would Ryan even have mentioned his charitable work if she hadn’t asked about his meeting?
“You're raising money to bring sports back to schools?”
“Sports are my first target, and then the arts programs if I can pull in enough for both.”
She knew she was grinning at him like a fool, but he was that great. “I think that's so fantastic, Ryan. Because, honestly, I don’t know if I would be a sculptor if it hadn’t been for the class I took in eighth grade. Mr. Barnsworth told me the ashtray I made in his class belonged in a museum. Becoming an art teacher was always my backup plan. At least until the districts got rid of them all.”
“P.E. teacher was my backup plan.”
“You were thinking about being a high school teacher?”
“Until the scouts came calling, yeah, I was.”
How could she not have known this about him? And why did it have to make him even cuter? She could just imagine what it would have been like in the halls of their old high school if he had become a teacher instead of a pro baseball player. Every time Mr. Sullivan walked down the hall, the giggling from crushed-out girls would have been deafening.
“I substituted for a while,” she told him, “right after college.” Until she’d married Anthony and he’d supported them both with his sculptures. She’d been grateful, but not nearly as grateful as he’d expected her to be.
“Oh man, I’ll bet those lucky punks in your classes didn’t hear a word you said.”
She had never thought about herself as the object of teenage crushes. Was Ryan right? Had she been?
“That could explain why they all seemed so spaced out all the time.”
“They probably didn’t want to come up to the front of the class, either.”
She almost spit out her sip of wine. “Just eat already. It’s not nearly as good cold.”
Finally, Ryan took a bite of the goulash. And then another. And then one more before saying, with his mouth full, “I can’t believe you made this.” He shoved another bite in. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thanks, but we both know your mother’s straight-from-Italy spaghetti sauce is better. Just barely,” she joked, “but still better.”
It had been years since she’d sat down at the boisterous, crowded Sullivan dinner table, but she’d never forgotten how good the food had always been. Or how much fun it had been to be surrounded by all the laughter.
“By the way,” she said after they'd both eaten in companionable silence for a few minutes, “I was thinking more about the latest turn of events with Anthony joining the board. I really don’t think James is going to try anything again, not knowing my ex-husband will be coming in from Italy.” She put down her fork and pushed the rest of her goulash away. “You’re amazing for stepping in and pretending to be my boyfriend, but I can’t let you keep putting your real life on hold for me.”
He was frowning at her as he said, “I’m not putting anything on hold.”
“I heard you cancel those dates,” she reminded him.
“If I’d known you were back in town, I would have cancelled those dates anyway.” He grabbed their plates and headed over to the sink. When she got up to help clean the pots and pans she’d used, he poured her another glass of wine. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”
There shouldn’t have been anything sexual about what he’d just said. They were talking about dirty dishes, for God’s sake. And yet, the subtle command to relax sent a flutter of heat down deep in her belly. But even as she reached out to pull up a stool at his kitchen island, Vicki couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the picture he made—a big, strong man elbow deep in suds, even though he could easily have employed a full-time staff to cater to his every need.
Which was why, instead of sitting down, she grabbed a clean dishtowel and started drying off the plates he’d just washed. She needed to fill her hands with cotton and porcelain and keep them too busy to accidentally fill them with Ryan’s hard muscles, instead.
“Hey,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he watched her put the dry plate away, “I thought you were relaxing with a glass of wine?”
“I was, and now I’m helping you clean up.”
She pretended she didn’t see the look in his eyes that told her he wasn’t used to being ignored when he wanted a woman to do something. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he tell her how he wanted her and expect her to behave if she wanted him to please—
She caught his dark gaze on her and almost dropped the wine glass in her hand as she realized she’d just been caught fantasizing about him. Moving to put the glass away, she prayed he couldn’t figure out what was making her so fumble-fingered. God, she hoped he couldn’t tell how aroused she was from nothing more than drying dishes next to him at the sink.
“I don’t want you dropping your guard around him, Vicki. Not yet. Let’s wait a few more days before we drop the high-school-sweethearts act.”
How could she blame Ryan for being concerned about her when she was the one who’d dragged him into the situation by panicking twenty-four hours ago?
And why did it hurt so bad when he called their act exactly what it was?
“If it will make you feel better, I guess we could do that.”
“It will make me feel better. A lot better.”
Working well together, they soon had the dishes cleaned and put away and he was taking their glasses of wine into the living room. He put them side by side on the coffee table and clicked on the TV.
“What do you want to see?”
Two hours on the couch next to Ryan. How on earth was she going to survive that?
“A horror movie.”
He shot her a surprised look. “Seriously? You want to watch a horror movie?”
“Love them.” Not really, but maybe if she was scared enough, she could forget about all the damn tingles taking over her cells one by one.
“I thought you were into indie comedies in high school?”
Warmth spread through her at his remembering something so small about her. He was right. She’d loved movies like Clerks and Muriel’s Wedding, and even more, the fact that the scrappy filmmakers had followed their vision and found such success. She’d hoped for even a fraction of success like that for herself one day. She still did.
“Don’t worry,” she teased, “I won’t tell anyone if you need to cover your eyes during the scary scenes.”
“Nothing like knowing my friend has my back,” he teased back as he started scrolling through the available movies. “How about this?” Halloween was up on the flat-screen. “It’s a classic.” He grinned and added, “This first one was practically indie.”
“Sounds great.” She curled her feet up under her and pulled a blanket draped over the arm of the couch onto her lap, even though sitting so close to Ryan already had her feeling way too hot and bothered to need it.
Having only ever seen a handful of horror movies, mostly through her closed eyelids and the hand she couldn’t help but keep over her eyes, she knew enough to expect fairly immediate blood and gore. Instead, Halloween opened with a teenage couple getting hot and heavy on a couch.
Vicki clutched the blanket tightly in her fists as she tried to keep her breathing slow and even while the kiss grew hotter and hotter. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest by the time the teenagers pulled apart and headed upstairs to the girl’s bedroom.
Thank God, she thought as she let herself relax back into the cushions. Maybe, if she was really lucky, one of the teenagers would be slashed in the next scene.
Normally, she would have been dreading seeing the crazy little brother wield the large kitchen knife, but anything was better than continuing to watch two kids, who were her and Ryan’s age when they met, making out and grinding against each other. Yes, she was totally prepared for—
�
��Oh my God!”
The little boy on the screen plunged the knife into his sister and Vicki couldn’t stop herself from leaping into Ryan’s arms and burying her head on his chest.
Chapter Nine
Ryan immediately clicked off the TV. His hands stroked down her back and even though somewhere in the back of her mind she knew what a bad idea it was to get this close to him, she couldn’t even think of moving from his lap while her heart was still pounding so hard and she couldn’t get the picture of spurting blood out of her head.
“It’s okay, Vicki,” he said in a gentle voice. “It’s just a dumb movie. It isn’t real.”
“I know,” she said, but her voice was shaking as she confessed, “I’ve only ever watched the Chucky movies, with the doll who comes alive.” Those movies had been scary, but nothing like the slashing they’d just witnessed.
“We could have watched something else. Just because I’m a guy doesn’t mean I can’t hack a chick flick every once in a while.”
By then, her fear had receded enough for her to feel a little idiotic. “I don’t know what I was think—”
She should have known better than to lift her head and look at him instead of moving off his lap first, but between her fading horror and rising arousal, her brain wasn’t functioning quite right. Unfortunately, with his mouth so close that she could practically taste the red wine on his lips, it was too late to get that thinking done.
Ryan’s hands stilled on her back and his arms tightened around her. She couldn’t look away from his eyes, which were growing darker by the second. All she needed to do was lean forward the barest amount and her lips would be on his and she could kiss him the way she’d been dying to kiss him for half her life...and not just because they were putting on a show for someone else.
Only, just as Vicki was about to close the gap between them, her brain finally clicked into overdrive with all the reasons why not, most of which started and ended with a crystal-clear vision of Ryan trying to be kind while helping her off his lap...and away from his mouth. He’d search so hard for the right words to tell her that while he was flattered by her attention, he valued their friendship too much to do anything to jeopardize it.
And she’d be left feeling like the fool she’d been to actually convince herself it had been okay to give in to temptation.
Moving as quickly as her suddenly clumsy limbs could manage, she shifted off Ryan’s lap. “You know what? I’ve got a big day tomorrow and you’ve got to pitch, so we should probably just head to bed.” She stood up, then concentrated on folding the blanket into a perfect rectangle.
She was laying the blanket over the arm of the couch when Ryan also stood and said, “You’re right, we should probably skip the movie tonight.”
Vicki forced back disappointment that he also clearly wanted to get away from her.
It was for the best. She wouldn’t risk their friendship. Especially not now, when they were finally together again after years on different sides of the world.
She was halfway up the stairs to the guest bedroom with Ryan a step behind her, when he asked, “Any chance you’ll be able to make the game tomorrow?”
If it had been anyone else she was inappropriately lusting after, she would have said no out of self-preservation. However, not only did she not want to let Ryan down, but she also really wanted to see him play again.
She smiled at him as she put her hand on her doorknob. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
He smiled back, but it didn’t erase that dark intensity in his eyes. “Great.” He paused, and she could have sworn he was fighting with himself over something before he finally said, “Good night, Vicki.”
After she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she sagged against it and put her head in her hands. She’d called Ryan to help her out of a sticky situation with James. Only, she was starting to feel like she’d walked into an even stickier one with Ryan.
One where her nearly unstoppable fantasies of being more than a friend ran the risk of breaking apart the friendship she’d always held so dear.
* * *
Ryan felt like hell the next morning. Two nights of practically no sleep combined with a hard-on that wouldn’t quit had him out on the beach at first light, trying to run off what felt like a hangover. He was pitching today and knew better than to push himself too hard, but after his run, he went straight to his home gym anyway.
He could still feel Vicki’s warm breath on his lips from last night when she’d leapt into his arms and the way her soft curves had pressed against his groin and chest as she let him soothe away her fears. Despite how much the movie had frightened her, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the fact that he’d been able to hold her for a few incredible moments because of it.
Sweet Lord, he’d never wanted to kiss anyone the way he wanted to kiss her. And he’d almost convinced himself that it would be okay to give in to the powerful urge, when she’d scrambled off his lap and practically run up the stairs to her bedroom to get away from him.
He’d offered her his guest room because she needed a friend to help her out.
He’d never forgive himself if she thought he expected any kind of sexual payment for the favor, but the way he was acting with her, he wouldn’t blame her for thinking that.
Added to that were his worries about how quickly she seemed to want to chuck in their “relationship.” As soon as he finished his workout, he was going to call Rafe to push for more information on James.
Hard rock music pounded as he worked with the machines before moving to the free weights. But even though he was frustrated as hell by an arousal that had absolutely no outlet where Vicki was concerned, he wasn’t stupid enough to push himself past the twinge in his right shoulder. He grabbed a clean towel from the shelf against the wall and wiped off his face as he headed down into the kitchen.
Vicki looked up from behind the blender she’d just turned off. “Want to share my fruit smoothie?”
“Sounds great. Thanks.” He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder as he grabbed an ice pack from the freezer to put on it. “You sleep okay?”
“How could I not in that bed?”
Her smile seemed just a little too bright, but then again, he was a grumpy—and horny—bastard today.
“Is your arm hurting?” She slid a full glass over to him and he drank from it gratefully.
He shrugged. “I always ice down after a workout.”
“I had a friend who was working with marble. By the end of her project, she started to hurt pretty bad.” She gave him a tentative smile. “She claims my massages are the reason she was able to see it through to the end.” She flexed her fingers in front of him. “You’re looking at really strong sculptor hands.”
Oh, hell. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than one of her massages, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength of will this morning to actually keep himself in check if she touched him.
“I appreciate the offer—”
Her face fell, but she quickly pasted that too-bright smile over it. “I’m sure you’ve got amazing masseuses among the team trainers who actually know what they’re doing.”
Damn it. He’d just hurt her feelings. It was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Actually, a massage would be great.” When she hesitated, he said, “Where do you want me?”
“One of the kitchen chairs is probably best, so you’re the right height.”
He willed down his erection as he sat on the chair. He could smell her fresh, clean scent as she moved behind him and had to brace himself for the moment her hands touched him. By the time she laid them down on his shoulders, his muscles had never been tighter.
“Let me know if you need it harder. Or softer.”
His erection immediately told his ideas of what was right and wrong in a friendship to take a hike.
Vicki started rubbing him and heaven and hell rolled into one as pleasure and torture came at him in crashing waves. Fortunately, she d
idn’t speak, so he didn’t have to, either. She’d opened the French doors out to his deck and he worked to focus on the surf hitting the shore rather than how good she smelled...or the fact that she seemed to know exactly how he liked to be touched. Because if she knew how to rub his shoulders, did that mean she’d also know exactly how to rub his—
He cursed aloud.
Vicki jumped back. “Did I just hurt you?”
“No.” How the hell was he going to stand up without her seeing what her innocent touches had done to him? Down, boy! “It was great. I just remembered something I should have taken care of last night.” Namely, beating his desire for her into the ground.
By the time he had his erection under control enough to turn around, she was picking up her keys and bag from the counter.
“I should get going now, anyway. I’ll see you at the stadium this afternoon.”
She was gone before he could apologize for being a jerk.
His phone rang just as he was about to get into a very cold shower. When he saw it was Rafe, Ryan turned off the water and picked up. “You found something.”
“Maybe. James Sedgwick is into some pretty creepy things. Heavy duty S&M mostly, which isn’t that out of the ordinary considering some of the things I see.”
“But you’re still not convinced he’s clear.”
“This friend of yours he was hassling is a sculptor, right?”
A muscle jumped in Ryan’s jaw as he unclenched his teeth long enough to say, “She is.”
“I’m guessing she’s pretty, huh?”
Ryan thought about the way she’d looked the night before on the couch, her big green eyes slightly dilated from the darkened room, her mouth plump and begging to be kissed. “You can’t even imagine how pretty.”
“As far as I can tell, every year he picks a girl just like your friend to be his. And then at the end of every year, after sending the girl on her way with some career prize, he gets a replacement. I’m guessing he’s wanting your friend to fill his current vacancy.”
